Amends
by Llewlyn
Summary: AU. No amount of meditation can help Ensign Vorik recover from disgrace at his disasterous pon farr. Humbled and alone, he asks Torres to teach him to fight. But she has more to learn from him than she imagined, and not all of it about violence. Complete.
1. Courage

**AN: **This is not the story i had intended to write. It's almost a betrayal, because i adore Tom Paris, and i can feel that even as i sit here helpless in front of my computer, listening to Coldplay and Ben Harper and pounding out page after page of the story. I've been watching Voyager in order, and just came across Blood Fever, and was stunned by the empathy i felt for this poor lost belowdecker Vorik. So, madness ensued, and i thought, why not let him have his chance? I don't know-- maybe you'll all get lucky and i won't finish it. But right now, it has me in a relentless grip-- Coldplay is the ultimate trancewriting music. Somebody please come switch it off...

** Disclaimer:** We pick up the crumbs, the lost chances, from Paramount's high table, and make them into banquets. All characters belong to TPTB.

* * *

Dishonored. 

Ensign Vorik attempted to find a better word to describe his state of mind, but he could not. No amount of meditation could get him past the unalterable fact that he had been defeated by the very woman he had chosen to be his mate. No, not defeated. Beaten. Conquered. True, this cast her in an even more desirable light; she was lithe and powerful, with a nimble mind and an intellect that went beyond his own, at least in the field of engineering. She had such an amazing ability to leap from problem to solution… he shook his head. These thoughts were not helping him gain peace. The more he thought about B'Elanna, the less he thought of himself, and his behavior. Which drove him in turn to make some sort of gesture, to balance things between them. They would, after all, be working together for a very long time, in intimate circumstances, dependent on each other. It was only logical that he attempt to return their professional relationship to one that was equivalent to what had been before.

This was how Ensign Vorik found himself, one week later, in the mess hall, pondering the human concept of courage. Not that Vulcans lacked a concept for courage—it was called _kyi'i_. But somehow this was different. It was possible that traces of the aborted mating bond still lingered in Vorik's subconscious, although he was loathe to admit to such a possibility, and that the human or Klingon, or even both identities of B'Elanna were wrapped up within him, confusing his own sense of self. Whatever it might be that prevented him from rising from his chair, he sat helplessly and watched as the woman he most admired on this lost ship chatted endlessly with the overly cheerful (even for a human) navigator Tom Paris. The man whom she had chosen over Vorik. A most irritating man, in Vorik's opinion. He laughed too much, and was reckless, and graceless, preferring to slouch rather than to sit with poise. Why would B'Elanna, a mighty warrior, choose a weak human over a strong Vulcan? Admittedly, as he watched his thoughts turn a full circle, she had beaten him soundly. But not on the first hit. Tom Paris wouldn't have lasted past the first body slam.

Vorik turned that moment over and over in his mind. He had been hazy with the blood fever, the ritual battle, the kali'fee. But when her fist had connected, it had shocked him into clarity for a moment, and sheer astonishment made him stumble. In all his years of training, no one had ever hit him that _hard_. The blow rang through his bones like a bell, turning his knees to water. It was… bewildering… _beautiful_. In that moment, he had wished that the battle could continue forever, that he could be locked into combat with his warrior queen, savage and lovely, until there was nothing left of him to fight, and that as he lay broken and dying on the ground, his only wish would be to see her gazing at him as he took his last breath, and closed his eyes, loosing his katra to her keeping.

Suddenly, he found that his kyi'i had not abandoned him at all, but was just waiting for the proper moment. Tom Paris was being called to the Bridge. How fortuitous. Vorik waited a moment, and then rose and sat down beside B'Elanna, a plan not even considered a moment ago now fully formed. His mind was extremely quick in its own way; lightning-quick, B'Elanna would have acknowledged, had she not been still so angry about the entire circumstance of the pon farr. She attempted an appropriate smile and hoped the Vulcan wouldn't notice her lack of warmth. But she was to learn that Vulcans were much more perceptive about emotion than she would ever have thought possible, from a species that claimed not to have any.

"Lieutenant, I wish to make a proposal."

B'Elanna raised a disbelieving eyebrow at him, a half-smile gracing her lips, and he looked down at the table, reconsidering what was clearly a poor choice of words. "What is it, Ensign?" she asked, sparing them both an awkward rephrasing. She wondered if that was how he was taught to speak, or if was an affectation. Maybe he was shy, or felt tongue-tied around humans. Tuvok, the only other Vulcan she knew well on board Voyager, was completely at ease in human company, even using humor on occasion. Vorik just seemed… young. And she realized that he was. He had just, more or less, reached puberty, even though she knew he was easily in his fourth decade. That was a disconcerting thought, and she did her best to stifle it, as he gathered up his courage, and spoke again.

"I have been burdened with… regret at my behavior, and I wish to make amends." He looked at her with was unmistakably eagerness, and she blanched inwardly, wondering what these amends were going to entail. To her dismay, his eagerness was shrouded immediately, and his dark, solemn eyes flickered down to the table. She flushed, wondering if her thoughts had been so obvious as to embarrass him. She hadn't intended to cause him more pain, and yet here she was, rubbing his nose in it like a bad puppy. That was damnably unkind, and she owed him better than that

Her voice was gentle with embarrassment when she spoke. "What you did, Vorik… I may be the only person who isn't a Vulcan on this ship that understands what you went through. And let me tell you that if you were only half as helpless as I was against that tidal wave, well, you did just fine."

"Tidal wave?" Curiosity perched on his eyebrows, and she found herself warming again to the young man sitting in front of her. He was quite handsome when he forgot to be concerned that someone might be watching him. Olive-complected and sleek black hair always slightly untidy in a way she found endearing, although she was certain he took great pains to make himself look as polished as possible. She nodded, remembering now.

"That's what it felt like. Like I was being washed away, every civilized layer, everything that made me who I was." She clutched at her uniform, as if that would describe what the pon farr had taken away from her. Two years ago such an icon would have been a symbol of scorn, but now it was the face that she was proud to present to the world. "The brutality of it… the sheer power." She shook her head. "I fell like a cut flower." Her sudden realization struck her like a weight in her stomach, and she looked up to meet Vorik's eyes. He looked slightly horrified, as if she were loudly describing her lingerie collection in public. She blushed even more. "I'm sorry. Would you like to go somewhere more private to discuss this?"

He blinked. Twice. His voice, when he finally spoke, was more of a breath. "Yes." She nodded at him, and wondered, not for the first time, what she was getting herself into.


	2. Watcher

**AN:** And it just keeps on coming, a relentless thread that invades every waking hour. Coldplay is starting up on its own. I find myself at the computer in the wee hours of the morning, scratching out notes that i thought up in dreams.

* * *

They ended up on Holodeck Two, which was the only holodeck not occupied. B'Elanna had briefly entertained the thought of going to her quarters, and then rejected it wholesale. The entire incident was just too close, and she didn't want to be within shouting distance of a bed in the presence of Vorik, even if she _could_ kick his ass with one had tied behind her back. No, holodecks were safer. She programmed a café, a quiet meadow, and then a crowded bar all in quick succession, and rejected them all. Finally, Vorik leaned over her shoulder, which was no problem for him since he was considerably taller, and punched a few commands into the pad. "I come here often to meditate. It is a neutral place." 

B'Elanna frowned. He had correctly interpreted her unwillingness to be in an intimate situation with him. That didn't speak well for her outer façade, or her theory on Vulcan obliviousness to emotion. In fact, she had no idea why she had formed that theory—based on her experience watching Tuvok and the captain, the Vulcan tactical officer had Janeway pegged, often before Janeway had even spoken. Had Vorik studied her with equal care? B'Elanna didn't know how to think about that, so she chose not to. Perhaps there was nothing to her thoughts at all. She simply nodded to Vorik, and he preceded her into the holodeck.

Vorik's thoughts were in turmoil, and he was relieved that he had been able to choose the setting. B'Elanna might as well have been stripping him naked in front of the crewmembers in the Mess Hall. He wasn't aware that any of them had been able to hear, but the matter of the pon farr was so profoundly private that he was stunned that she could speak of it with such freedom. And yet, he wanted to know what she had to say. No one had ever spoken to him like this. All of these things were shrouded in mystery, in shame and humiliation, and no one spoke of them. Ever. Except B'Elanna Torres. The temple vista surrounded and soothed him, its familiarity gentle and sopophoric on his troubled mind. He felt her come up behind him, looking around. "What is this place?"

"It is a temple. The original is in the city where I grew up on Vulcan." He reached out for a glowing canister of incense, burnished to a bright gold in the dying suns of the twilight. "I came here often when I was… younger." What had he intended to admit to her? Had he not bared his soul enough to this woman? Sighing softly, he gestured to a mat on the floor. "Please, sit, and continue your thoughts."

She did sit, after a moment of staring into the middle distance, and he kneeled stiffly opposite her. B'Elanna's mind flashed, for a betraying moment, back to his flowing grace during the kali'fee—that is, until she sent him sprawling. He moved like he belonged in the battle, just like some people were only graceful while swimming or dancing. When he walked, his movements were carefully controlled, but stilted—hardly graceful. She shook her head, not wanting to dwell on it, and attempted to recapture the broken threads of her thoughts from the mess hall. Vorik just waited patiently, as the sun fell below the horizon, and B'Elanna could faintly see the sliver of what looked like a large moon on the horizon. "Your sister planet is beautiful."

Vorik softened perceptibly. "Most off-worlders think T'Khut is a moon."

"What does the name mean?" She couldn't help herself. She was being drawn in to conversation with Vorik, and his gentle manner was disarming her in exactly the way she had intended to be on guard for. He gazed at her calmly, and she wondered if he knew again what she was thinking.

"She is the Watcher."

The silence stretched between them, silence that B'Elanna became desperate to fill. She struggled to focus on what she had been thinking, and then how to redirect the conversation. Small talk had never been her strong suite, and this small talk seemed to be looming rather larger than its name implied. But after a tense moment, Vorik unexpectedly came to her rescue. "Please. You were telling me how the pon farr made you… feel. You must understand that this subject is simply not discussed among my people. But I must admit that if you are willing to share your experiences, then I would be fascinated to hear them."

She took a deep breath. "I was telling you that I felt… that I had been stripped of control, of all that made me who I was." A throaty chuckle escaped her. "And then I thought how ironic it was that I would reference this uniform as a symbol of that control, but then I guess that it's sort of appropriate." She sighed, and stretched out on the ground, reaching to access all of the experience that she could. "And I fell. I just… collapsed under the pressure of the wave. It took me over, and I couldn't resist it." Her hands slid around her stomach to clutch at her ribs, the discomfort of the experience still nearly overwhelming. "I tried, I fought. And I failed. Completely." She fixed Vorik with a serious look, and he tilted his head slightly toward her, listening intently. "I wanted to _kill you_. If I had… I would not have been able to live with myself."

Suddenly, overwhelmingly, she wanted to reach out and touch his hand. Between the thought and the action was a wall that was as solid as granite, the exact color of her pride. Instead, she tucked her hand behind her head to cushion it against the hard clay floor. But the thought stayed with her, intense and unfulfilled. He had been as helpless as she, following the ancient dance of his people. He had chosen her, among all the women on the crew, as the one he wanted for a mate. And she had utterly humiliated him for it.

After a moment, he spoke, but his voice was rough around the edges. "What you did was the only honorable path you could follow. I gave you no choice. You rejected me as a mate, and the ritual was played out. If I had been killed, no one would have faulted you for it." His full mouth quirked in a tiny smile that B'Elanna was sure she was hallucinating. "Indeed, at the last, I did not expect you to stop."

B'Elanna was stunned, not certain if she had heard right. "What?" She sat up, her attention fully on him now, and he acknowledged the shift in their dynamic with a delicate out-thrusting of his chin.

"The ritual challenge ends, almost always, in death. If you had been Vulcan, I would likely be dead." He spoke readily, his eyebrows raised, and she was again reminded of a puppy, but horribly now. Her brow creased in pain, and she felt queasy, for a culture that would betray such a bright young man so completely. Would Tuvok had stood by and watched her murder her junior officer? She couldn't imagine him doing such a thing, but yet, could he have prevented it? And yet Vorik had intended to challenge Tom, and Tom would have been cut down in an instant. Was Vorik tacitly admitting that he had been prepared to kill Tom to win her? She looked down to see that her hands were shaking. He saw, and took her hands in his, unthreateningly. Surprised, she allowed him to. They sat for a moment in a silence that B'Elanna did not need to fill. His body heat was intense, and it soothed her, washing through her hands and wrists and up her arms. Finally, a thought filled her that could not be silenced.

"All these years I thought Klingons were so violent… I had absolutely no idea that Vulcans kept such a terrible secret."

"It is often a… hard discipline. I have much to learn, B'Elanna." His voice was fragile, and she squeezed his hand, glad that she had not had to break through her own wall to touch him. "I never intended to be so far from my studies, and my teachers. I wanted to ask you if you would help me with a part of them."

She smiled at him then, certain he was joking. "I didn't do so hot with the first Vulcan ritual, Vorik. I'm not sure what I can do for you."

He raised his eyes to hers, deep and uncertain. "I was hoping that you would consent to teach me how to fight."

Unbidden, his graceful sweeping back-kick came flying through her mind, and a curious slow-motion vision of his lanky and powerful body, untrained but full of potential, in their blurred and bloody battle on a now-distant planet. She realized that in all her time spent with him, those few brief moments were the only moments she had truly felt blood-lust for him. Dangerous, but intriguing. She eyed him carefully, and decided that her answer would depend on how he answered her next question. "Why?"

He contemplated her carefully, seeming to realize how much was riding on her answer. Suddenly, B'Elanna felt like one of her own Starfleet instructors, pushing and judging to the limit. She was uncomfortable with that comparison, but she had to know. Vorik let go of her hands, slowly, and templed his fingers against his lips. "I lack discipline. That you were able to prevent my death at your own hands, though you clearly wanted it, shows me that your discipline is superior to mine. I wish to learn. Will you be my teacher?" His half-hidden face was a stoic mask, but she could tell how much his confession had cost him. Vorik never hid his face when he spoke. If he could observe her, she could do the same to him.

"How do I know you don't want to learn just so you can beat me in a fight?" But she was smiling, and they both realized with considerable surprise that she had agreed. He dropped his hands to his knees with a near-blank expression that bordered on relief.

"I have told you the truth of my motives. If you choose to teach me the techniques that will lead to your defeat, then that is up to you." Perhaps it was just the candlelight, but B'Elanna could have sworn that his eyes were sparkling. She nodded.

"Alright, Vorik. You've won your point. Meet me back here at oh-five hundred hours tomorrow. Wear something loose fitting." He nodded, and then rose, and took her hand again to help her stand. She came up to his shoulders, and her mind was already racing, adjusting for height and weight differentials. He was fast, but his aim was off, and he was going to have to learn that the hard way. She looked around her to find that the sun had completely set, and the chill desert wind was cresting from the valley below the temple. She shivered.

"Changeable weather."

"Vulcan is a difficult planet." She turned instinctively to him, a lost, raw quality in his voice that she had never heard before. "Yet not a day goes by that I do not wish to be home." Looking up into his eyes, she connected with the stark loneliness there on a visceral level. He returned her gaze, and she found herself wondering for a moment, what it would have been like to have accepted his offer. And then she knew she had spent _way_ too much time in his company.

"Good night, Ensign. See you tomorrow." She turned and walked out, feeling unaccountably like she was abandoning him. That was a foolish thought, and she knew it. But she could feel his dark eyes on her even as she crossed the threshold of the temple and walked out into the corridor. She did not dare look back.


	3. Restraint

**AN:** I've read everything i can find about this shadowy belowdecker, and it isn't much. Like our dear Lieutenant Ayala, Ensign Vorik is a man of mystery. Although in Pathways, he did get to beam out in pieces. How many Starfleet officers can make that claim?

* * *

B'Elanna walked the entire way down to Holodeck Two wondering why she had ever agreed to this, and trying to devise a way, legitimately or not, to back out of it. ToDSaH, she thought. Wuss. She shook her head. It wasn't the fight that she was concerned about—it was all of the peripherals. The fact that Vorik was clearly still attracted to her. His intense loneliness, and youth and inexperience with life. She wasn't a nursemaid, and didn't feel like nursing a young man who had a crush on her, even if he had tried to take matters into his own hands. Actually, now that she thought about it, the challenge had been quite refreshing. It appealed to the Klingon in her that she struggled to keep buried deep, and that was what frightened her most.

Well, B'Elanna wasn't much for backing down from a challenge, as long as she knew what she was fighting. Feeling a little more confident, she faced the holodeck door, to find a program already activated. She smirked. Vorik had better not have tired himself out, because he was going to have a long day ahead of him. She certainly wasn't going to give him a break in his duties in engineering if they had a rough morning in the holodeck.

When she stepped through the door, though, she found him seated in meditation, wearing a pair of loose pants fit for a martial arts workout. His shirt was folded neatly next to him on the floor, and the room was warm and dark, filled with candlelight. Vulcans and candles, and yet they pretended not to understand romance. She studied his well-muscled shoulders and back in the soft, flickering light, reading the map of his strength. He was definitely fit, but no muscle group was overly developed beyond his shoulders and triceps. She remembered that he had done extensive rock climbing, which would account for that. His head turned slightly at the swish of the door, and his hand reached for his shirt. "Forgive me, B'Elanna. I came early to meditate."

"No problem, Vorik. I can see you're top-heavy, with less muscle strength in your lower back. You'll have to watch for that." She grinned at him as he turned, pulling his shirt on smoothly, but she got a glimpse what she expected—broad pectoral muscles and strong biceps but a smooth abdomen. He had no strong muscle wall over his stomach, and would be easy prey there. He studied her for a moment with his head slightly cocked to one side.

"I have always underestimated you, B'Elanna."

"Yes. You have. Now you get to find out how much that will cost on the dance floor." Without any more warning than that, she swung into a high kick and immediately dropped into a spin and went for his soft abdominal muscles with her fists. He allowed the kick to land on his shoulder, but the blow was heavier than he anticipated, and he barely deflected her double punch from his stomach. She righted herself and grinned saucily at him. "You need better protection. You're weak where it counts most to be strong." Without waiting for his reply, she barked at the walls. "Computer! Run Torres A. Safeties on. For the moment." She flicked her eyes back at the young Vulcan, his serious eyes on her rather than the environment taking shape around them. Good. He had learned his first lesson.

Torres A was a simulation made from an amalgamation of an old Earth Marine boot camp, some of her most hated Starfleet simulations, and Klingon wargames. It was the most intensive workout she had ever put together, and she ran through it when she needed to blast herself into oblivion. She didn't expect Vorik to make it even halfway through. The first barrier was a granite wall, which they climbed with minimal gear. He was a natural on the sheer wall, finding crevices that B'Elanna had trouble using, even with her smaller hands. She found out that his thigh muscles were as well developed as his biceps, as he made powerful stretches and balanced on holds that she wouldn't have risked a hook on, much less a life. But Vorik didn't say a word to her through the entire experience until they got to the top, and then he turned, nodded to her agreeably, and said, "That was most refreshing. May I borrow it?"

She nodded, trying not to appear impressed. "Anytime, Vorik," she said with practiced nonchalance. And then he turned to look beyond them, and his easy confidence shriveled to nothing. Between them and the next checkpoint was a vast lake. His mouth fell open, and then he closed it, and squared his shoulders. B'Elanna creased her forehead, wondering if it was too much. Desert planet dweller that he was, had he even been swimming before? Before they reached the bank, he confirmed her suspicion.

"You will have to teach me to swim, B'Elanna. I do not have this experience." His voice was quiet, mildly awestruck. She nodded, and looked up at the ceiling.

"Computer, end Torres A simulation." The lake vanished, leaving them in the empty deck. She thought for a moment, and then spoke again, uncomfortably aware that his eyes hadn't left her. "Tomorrow, I'll begin to teach you to swim. Today, we'll finish with standard wrestling holds. In 3 G's." He nodded, his eyes darkening, and as she finished giving the computer instructions, the weight in the room increased steadily until, to him, it felt like home. He tucked and rolled, catching his commanding officer off balance and sending her tumbling. She laughed out loud, knowing that she couldn't make any excuses for having not been ready. She settled into a low stance, and they threw themselves together, each determined not to fall. The heavy gravity dragged B'Elanna down, and she threw herself into the fight against it, and against Vorik, whose powerful shoulder strength was to his advantage in this game, and something loosed inside of her, and she was straining, all of the sudden, with everything she had. A small part of her mind realized that she had never let herself go like this, had never just cut the cords of her restraint. And then Vorik grunted with the strain beside her, a sound of pure, unadulterated joy, and she felt a new surge of power from untapped sources deep within. She threw Vorik to the ground, but before she could pin him he was back up again—she had underestimated his natural quickness in this dense gravity. And now he was on her without mercy, breaking every hold she could find on him, using his height and reach to his advantage, and she was pressed into a game of avoidance, into defense.

That wouldn't do.

Breaking free, she circled him, panting. How long had it been since she had become winded during a workout? Vorik was sweating lightly, his concentration steady and his eyes black. She grinned a heady grin, feeling energy building up inside her, ready to take him out… ready to… A communicator chirped somewhere. "Carey to Torres." She shook her head, and Vorik straightened, their battle trance broken. She looked around for her commbadge, and then realized that it was pinned to her shirt. She tapped it. "Torres here." Her voice was a little unsteady, and she swallowed.

"Chief, can you come down a little early today? I wanted to get started on the new sequencing for the warp coils before the captain comes by for inspection." Carey sounded nervous. The captain had ordered them to shave off energy usage all over the ship, and she and Carey had been working on a timing sequence that would take seconds off the powering of the coils. It was tricky, to say the least.

B'Elanna forced herself fully into the role of Chief Engineer, leaving the warrior behind. "Sure. I just need to take a shower and change. Ten minutes. Torres out."

Vorik looked slightly bemused, but bowed, and she returned it. "Thank you, B'Elanna. That was… most enlightening. What will I need to… swim?"

She imagined what a Vulcan would look like in swim trunks, and shook her head. Talk about a targ in the water. "Bring standard swim gear, with gills. I'll teach you the crawl stroke tomorrow." He nodded, and then turned and walked out, only slightly favoring his left leg. She stood for a moment, trying to catch the last threads of a dream. What was it that she had just been ready to do to Vorik, before Carey had called? She had to be very careful that this little exercise didn't spiral rapidly out of control. She was in complete control. Complete control.


	4. Burden

Carey was waiting eagerly for her in Engineering when she arrived fifteen minutes later, showered and feeling focused. The morning workout had done her a world of good, and had even left her a little sore. She hid a smile as she watched Ensign Vorik lean stiffly over a console—of the two of them, she had definitely come out with fewer bruises. And to her pleasure, the three of them managed to shave almost five seconds off the power-up of the warp coils in the test sequence. It wasn't much, but small power-savers like this all over the ship would help them stockpile energy that they desperately needed. On long stretches between planets and bases, Captain Janeway always came up with interesting and useful ways to keep them all occupied, their skills finely honed, and B'Elanna was grateful.

She was also pleased with the teamwork among the members of her crew. Carey was a fine engineer, if limited in courage. Vorik was limited only in experience, but his fine mind and lightning-quick ability to make ideas meet in solutions was something that B'Elanna valued greatly. She realized that she had missed that for the brief time they had been alienated, and that she hadn't realized how much she had come to rely on him as a sounding board. His steady calm and insight, Carey's bright and active intelligence, and her unique problem-solving abilities made them a solid team, one that she did not want to lose. She caught Vorik's favoring his wrist, and smiled ruefully. Unfortunately, he caught her eye at the exact same moment, and his gaze softened in embarrassment. She moved over to his station, ostensibly to check on some readings, and took his wrist in her hand. Dark brown bruises in the shape of her fingers crossed over the thin flesh that covered his strong bones. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"I am beginning to feel the effects of the morning, Lieutenant." His voice was pitched only for her ears, and his breath whispered against her cheek. She smiled, feeling perversely pleased.

"Feeling like you made a bargain with the Devil, Ensign?"

He considered her for a moment, and his dark eyes dropped to where her hand was still holding his wrist. She gently let go of his hand, but didn't let her question drop. A tiny smile quirked the corner of his mouth, adding a wry depth to his expression that she had never seen there before.

"Vulcans don't believe in the Devil, Lieutenant."

Her grin only broadened. "Brave words, Vorik." He watched her in return for a moment, the wryness not leaving his eyes, until a chirp from the board called his attention back to the process he was running. B'Elanna turned back to her boards, and Carey came up behind her, beaming.

"This went well. The captain seemed pleased." She nodded, and felt a flush of pride at the small triumph. In a passage full of terrible crisis, every victory, no matter how small, was a worthy one.

At lunch, Tom tracked her down and slid into the seat next to her, eager to hear about the morning session. "So, did you kick his ass?"

She rolled her eyes, munching on sliced liola root salad and some gingered rice. "No. Actually, I didn't. We did some rock climbing, and practiced wrestling holds."

Tom flashed her a disapproving look. "Wrestling holds? That sounds… cozy." His voice insinuated the exact feeling of discomfort that B'Elanna had felt herself, so she naturally denied it with a wave of her hand, instead leaning toward him.

"In three G's, Tom."

His sandy eyebrows shot up. "Three? As in three times Earth's gravity?" He settled his elbows on the table and scowled at his rice. "Heavy."

"Very." She poked at a slice of root. "He is a skillful rock climber. He might even be better than you, Tom." She watched her friend's light skin flush with umbrage, and his lips twitched mildly.

"If he needs a rock climbing partner, he's free to ask."

B'Elanna suddenly didn't want to escalate this competition anymore. "Tom, I'm not romantically interested in Vorik. He asked me to teach him how to fight. To do that, we have to go through some pretty intensive training. That's all."

Tom looked at her, his light blue eyes intense. "Who are you trying to convince, B'Elanna?" She pulled back, a little shocked, and he reached across and took her hand. "Look, whatever you do is fine. He came to you to make things better between you, and that's good for everyone in Engineering, which is good for the rest of us." The impish light came back into his eyes. "Besides, you've been looking for a sparring partner. And I'm sure it's satisfying to beat the crap out of him."

B'Elanna laughed out loud at this. "It is! I almost feel guilty. But he is very… durable." Tom was grinning, sharing her glee, and suddenly she felt a lot better about the whole thing. "Thank you. I was having second thoughts. I'm teaching him how to swim tomorrow, and he's really nervous." She ate the last of her food quickly and squeezed Tom on the shoulder. "See you later, Navigator."

Tom stared at his rice for a while after she left, wondering just what had happened to make the conversation turn against him so completely. Would he ever stop making things worse just by opening his mouth? And now she was teaching Vorik the Vulcan, man from the desert planet, how to swim. The thought of it made him lose what was left of his appetite.

The door to the mess hall opened, and who should walk in but the Vulcan in question. Tom was satisfied at least to see that he was limping slightly, but the thought that Vorik was carrying the injury rather than taking it to the Doctor bothered him slightly. It was something Tom would do with a war wound that he was proud of. Feeling perverse, he motioned Vorik over to his table, and the tall Vulcan sat hesitantly down with a tray full of greens. They had not actually spoken since Vorik had attempted to engage him in the ritual combat of the plak tow, and Tom was still feeling less than friendly. When Tom continued to stare at him, Vorik bowed his head over his meal and began to eat. Finally, Tom spoke, wishing he had never invited the Vulcan over in the first place.

"So, B'Elanna tells me that she's going to teach you how to swim tomorrow. That sounds interesting."

Vorik chewed his food slowly, and swallowed. "I have to admit, I am uncertain about submerging myself in water." His face was a mask, but Tom could see the nervousness in his eyes. He softened a bit. A small bit.

"You'll like it, I bet. It's a little like zero grav, but without the nausea. And if I know B'Elanna, she'll find some place that will take your mind off the water.

Vorik looked at him curiously. "What do you mean?" He set his hands on the table, and Tom caught a glimpse of the bruises under the cuff of his uniform. So the limp wasn't the only injury he had kept. A brief flare of jealousy flared within him, but he tamped it down. Was he jealous about not getting the stuffing beat out of him? Certainly not—Vorik could have all the abuse that he wanted. He tried to focus back on the question, when he realized that the Vulcan was waiting patiently for his answer.

"Well, I remember when she introduced me to wind sailing, she picked a very pretty piece of tranquil coast in the Caribbean. Even when I crashed, it was into the shallows. She'll take good care of you."

Vorik flicked his eyebrows up at this, and his gaze dropped ruefully to his wrists. "Indeed." Tom realized suddenly that more was going on than met the eye. Perhaps Vorik even felt that he deserved these injuries, for what he had done to B'Elanna. Abruptly, Tom lost the taste for teasing the young man. He stood, and forced a smile.

"You'll do fine." And then, without knowing what led him, he clasped a gentle hand on Vorik's shoulder. The Vulcan nodded, and met his eyes, something unfathomable in his gaze.

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

"Most people around here call me Tom."

"Thank you, Tom." And then the conversation was closed, and Vorik turned back to his salad, and Tom left the mess hall, his mind full of troubled thoughts. He wasn't going to betray a confidence that he only suspected. But he would watch out for the two of them. After all, what were friends for? But the haunted look in Vorik's dark eyes stayed with him long after duty shift was over.


	5. Safety

This chapter is dedicated, with showers of pink confetti, to my good friend and faithful reviewer **wee-me,** without whom I would have given up and gone home long ago. So you may blame her for this if you like ::grins:: But I insist you go read her stories—she has an unmatched flair for description. ::opens curtain::

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The next morning B'Elanna woke up nervous, and the feeling didn't leave her all the way down to the holodeck. The program Torres A was already running, and the safeties were _off_. Merciless guilt ransacked her stomach—that lake was full of deep undercurrents and treacherous spillways—no easy path even for an experienced swimmer. If he had attempted it without her…! She rushed through the door, calling Vorik's name, but there was no answer. The climbing wall was a blank face of morning-warmed granite, and she didn't feel like dealing with it. "Computer, stairs!" A gently sloping path of rough dirt stairs appeared in front of the wall and she sprang over them, leaping over the wall in a tenth of the time it would have taken her to climb it. It was her program, and it was full of shortcuts. She was a very busy person. She had never before thought that she might have to rescue some foolish Vulcan from a man-eating lake. 

Crashing through the underbrush, she called out to him again, but only silence met her sensitive ears. The woods seemed unusually dense, and briars tore at her cheeks as she forced her way through to the shore. There, at the edge of the lake, sitting perfectly oblivious in his Starfleet issue swim gear, mask at his side, was the reason for her thundering heart. B'Elanna dropped to her knees beside him and took him by the shoulders, wanting to shake him as hard as she could. "Vorik, didn't you hear me calling?"

He looked up at her, his eyes curiously blank. His mouth opened and closed, and he blinked, but said nothing. She shook her head at him, and realized that his shoulders were damp with dew moisture. "How long have you been out here?"

His dark eyes broke to the pebbled beach, not quite meeting the waterline. "Three hours and twenty two minutes."

B'Elanna swallowed, her nervousness back in a trembling rush. "You weren't planning to swim without me, were you?"

He wouldn't meet her eyes. "Yes."

She forced him to look at her, gazing deep enough to make certain she made a connection. "Vorik, this lake is incredibly dangerous. It has undertows, and whirlpools. Never swim here without me. Do you understand?"

His breathing accelerated, and his heart rate with it, and she had to force herself not to look away, not to allow him to keep his pride. This was too important. He was too important, she realized. "Please," she added. His gaze softened slightly, and he nodded.

"I am sorry to have upset you, B'Elanna."

"I'm here to teach you how to swim, not to resuscitate you, Ensign." She allowed a glint of flinty anger to leak out of her expression, now that she could accept that a crisis had been averted. He lifted a consummate Vulcan eyebrow at her.

"Yes, sir." He had reverted to the ultimate formality, calling her sir. It felt like a wall; one without crevices in which to find purchase.

"Right." She stood briskly. No sense in trying to salvage that situation. On to the next. "This is not where we are going to swim. Computer. End Torres A." The lake vanished around them, and Vorik stood calmly, as if he hadn't been on the brink of death a moment before. He was made of such extremes, she mused—the intense violence and the blank passiveness, all bound within moments of each other. It was disconcerting. She directed her attention to the program instead. "Computer, begin Torres Ocean B. Depth begin at one meter, angle outward at fifteen degrees. Flora and fauna." She paused, thinking, and then added, "No jellyfish."

"Jellyfish?" Vorik queried. B'Elanna just smiled, as the water came into existence around them. At first, Vorik stood stock still, his knees locked, and she reached out and took his forearms to help him balance. They stood close to each other as the water level rose up above their hips. The brilliant blue of Earth's Caribbean ocean gleamed out in all directions, and he stared in amazement around them, his hands clutching at her biceps. "This is on Earth?"

"Yes. The Caribbean."

His brow darkened momentarily. "Where you taught Tom Paris to wind sail."

B'Elanna raised her own eyebrow at this revelation. "Have you two been trading stories about me? Because that can stop."

He looked back at her, disconcerted. "No, B'Elanna. He was only trying to make me feel better about learning to swim. I would not betray your confidence in such a manner."

She narrowed her eyes at him, but he seemed genuinely sincere. So rather than prodding him, she reached for his mask and tugged it out of his fingers. "You won't be needing this right away." She had let hers drop to the sandy bottom already, luxuriating in the feel of the warm water seeping through the light water cloth. "You have to learn to trust the water to hold you up before you can begin to swim. I want you to lay back in the deeper water over here, and relax. Just keep your nose above the water, and let everything else go."

Vorik looked at her with clear apprehension in his eyes, although he struggled to present a calm façade. But he attempted to do as she asked, first trying to sit down in the water, and then bending down to lie on his back on the bottom. B'Elanna struggled not to grin—it was hard not to watch him flail like this and not laugh, but she knew if she insulted his pride now she would never get him back. "Here, watch me," she said, after he stood and shook himself off in frustration. She set her back against his forearm so that he could feel her relax, and then she just gave herself over to the waves. She felt him trying to hold her up, but she shook her head at him. "Let me go. Trust the water." As her ears went under the waves, the sounds of her starship throbbed into life, and the thunder of her heart, and the gentle washing of the waves. Bliss. She felt his hand slide down the length of her back, leaving her to the burden of the wave, and she smiled gently at him. He was gazing down at her, a bemused expression on his young face.

After she rose, she let him sink slowly against her arm, which is what she should have done in the first place, and he was able to use her arm as a counterpoint to find his balance. She could feel the muscles in his back knotting and unknotting, and she stroked her hand along his shoulder blades until the tension eased. Finally, she asked him to balance on her hand as she spread her fingers on the small of his back, and to let every other muscle group relax. Slowly, he complied. He didn't even notice, a moment later, when she took her hand away.

The time passed too quickly. Once Vorik had gotten the hang of floating, swimming came naturally to him, and soon they were off exploring the ocean floor. She had always been fascinated by the variety of plant and animal life at the bottom of the shallow blue ocean, and as they swam among schools of brightly colored fish and coral, she felt the tensions of the past month ease and let go entirely. Vorik was her friend, and she had found a sparring partner, and had reclaimed the third part of her engineering team. And Tom Paris could go suck on a spanner if he had a problem with it.

Time for shift beginning loomed ominously near, and B'Elanna surfaced regretfully, with Vorik right behind her. He turned to look behind them at the sparkling vista one last time, and feeling mischievous, she twisted away from him, diving down and around him, and came up behind him, jumping on his back and shoving him down into the waves. He tried to capture her hands but she had the advantage, and he went completely under, rising a moment later in a sheer wave of sparkling water, his mouth gasping open and eyes squeezed tight. She was laughing, and he plunged toward her by sound only, scrubbing salt water out of his eyes. She narrowly escaped him, spurting out of his grasp, only to feel his firm grasp on her hip a second later as he lifted her up in his arms and tossed her screaming a clear meter out into the blue water. When she surfaced again, he was emerging from under the ocean, rinsing off his face and hair, and watching her with a wary sparkle in his dark eyes.

She thought, in that moment, that he had never looked more beautiful.

The nervous butterflies came to life all over again.


	6. Custom

**AN: **Whew, the music got a little dark there for a while-- someone switched on the Skinny Puppy while i was AFK. I think it might have been my cat... Thank you to my priceless wee-me and to thevulcanprincess for reviews-- i've said this before, but reviews are water in the desert, and interactive, too! Reviewers get to add input! Onward...

* * *

For the next several weeks, they alternated mornings of swimming and fighting with mornings of sheer crippled exhaustion from which neither of them could raise themselves from their bunks. On one occasion, B'Elanna commed Vorik to tell him that she wasn't going to make it, and he thanked her with a slight tremble in his voice. The night before they had spent three hours working out in 3 G's after the captain had been displeased with a minor setback in the energy curtailment schedule. It had been nobody's fault, but Carey had volunteered to fix it, and Vorik and B'Elanna had both headed to the holodeck for a rare afterhours workout, feeling frustrated and sullen. They had met, surprised, at the door, from opposite ends of the corridor, and he had bowed her in and chosen the most punishing routine they had programmed in.

They had also both taken to carrying their injuries with a certain amount of pride, as long as they weren't too obvious or didn't interfere with the job. When B'Elanna dislocated Vorik's jaw again, he had the Doctor fix it. B'Elanna had come along to explain, but the Doctor had his own ideas.

"The two of you look like you've been using each other for target practice. Something I should know about?" Vorik stared stonily ahead and B'Elanna scowled, rubbing her bruised cheek, where Vorik had clipped her with a solid fist just before she had kicked him in the jaw and downed him. The Doctor smiled at them both pleasantly. "No? Certain this isn't some obscure Vulcan/Klingon mating custom that escaped us the first time around?"

"Doctor, you do like being repaired, don't you?" B'Elanna had asked icily. But the question had hung heavily in the air between them long after they had left sickbay. Finally, she had asked Vorik, as they suited up in the shallows one morning about a week after.

"Is this helping you the way you had hoped, Vorik?" Her voice was fraught with other possibilities, other questions that she could have asked. He turned to her, considering her face for a moment.

"You mean to ask if I still want you as a mate? As the Doctor suggested?" His voice, in contrast, was full of steady calm. She nodded, hanging onto his calm like an anchor. His brow creased slightly. "I do still desire you as a mate, B'Elanna." Her heart hammered in her chest, and she flushed, turning on her earlier judgment. How could he talk about this so calmly? "But I was overconfident when I forced that decision on you." He turned to her now, and she couldn't look away from him, from the fading bruise under his ear where her hand had slipped past his guard two days ago; or the white thread of a narrow scar at the line of his jaw that she didn't even remember giving him. "I will not bond you without your consent. And Vulcans cannot mate without the bond."

But despite her asking, he would not tell her more. So eventually, she ceased to ask, hoping that he would decide to tell her when he was ready, and uncertain what she was hoping to gain with the knowledge of it.

One evening, about two weeks after Vorik's jaw had healed, they were working on a series of throws from a variety of cultures, turning one style against another in a battle that had become increasingly and more obviously brutal to everyone but themselves. Spotting injuries to either of them had become a bit of a sport to the rest of the engineering crew, and Tuvok had spoken to Vorik privately on the matter, as Chakotay had to B'Elanna. But both had sincerely denied that anything but honest sports competition had been taking place. Vorik spun a nasty slice toward B'Elanna as he slowly related Tuvok's words.

"He told me that he was most concerned that I would injure you, and that my superior strength was a most unfair advantage." B'Elanna dodged him easily and slammed a kick into his thigh, which he rolled off with a grunt and shook off as if it were nothing. She grinned, thinking of that vaunted Vulcan pride, and how Tuvok would blush if he knew the truth.

"What did you tell him?" Vorik eyed her with practiced ease as she tensed the wrong muscle groups to throw him off, and then launched himself into her real attack with the force of a phaser cannon, knocking her backwards into a tucking roll. She caught his abdomen with her heels on the way back up with the strength of a forward kick, leaving him winded. He reeled back for a moment, and then steadied himself, blinking.

"I invited him to come and teach us the ancient Earth discipline of Gong Fu, which he regards highly."

She paused, straightening. "Oh. Did he accept?" The thought of Tuvok invading their private sanctum was somewhat… disquieting. And the surfacing of that thought bothered her. Did she really consider this time private, or even sacred? Vorik studied her, and then bowed slightly, standing down in the way that he did when he observed that she was no longer engaged in their wargames.

"He told me that he would consider it." Vorik sat comfortably on the ground, a sandy desert that seemed to stretch for miles, and peered up at her. "What of Chakotay and his concern for you?"

B'Elanna shrugged, suddenly embarrassed. "He wanted to know if you looked as bad as I did."

Vorik almost smiled. He did that more and more often in her company now, nearly exposing emotional states. After everything they had put each other through, wearing masks seemed an excessive use of energy. "Did you tell him that I invariably look worse?" She chuckled with velvet in her voice, but didn't reply. Actually, she had, to ease Chakotay's worried frown, but she didn't want to expose Vorik like that, with just the two of them here. It seemed unnecessarily cruel. He had taken an immense amount of punishment from her, more than any three people could have been expected to bear, and he was still here. True, he gave out as good as he got, and she wouldn't stand for anything less than his finest effort. Their constant wargames had developed iron where muscle used to lay. B'Elanna had never been so strong, or so fast. Or so determined.

"Vorik, I have a proposal for you."

He squinted at her in the bright desert sun, his eyebrow quirked in amusement at her choice of words. "I will endeavor to hear it with composure, B'Elanna." He was toying with her, using his own tranquility as a shield as she got flustered at him. But she had learned a great deal about Vulcan composure, and Vulcan emotion as well. It was all a matter of subtlety. B'Elanna had never been subtle before she had met Vorik. It was still not much more than a clumsy weapon in her hands, while he was the clear master. But she was a quick study, and he was an excellent teacher.

"I want to learn something from you that I know that you will not teach me willingly." She kept her voice from betraying the importance of this request. He lifted both eyebrows at her. Both eyebrows was a good sign, she knew. One eyebrow was often a sign of contempt, or of mild interest at best. But both eyebrows meant he was _listening_. She focused on him, forcing out thoughts of everything else. This was all that mattered at the moment. "I will fight you for the honor of learning the Vulcan nerve pinch."

Both eyebrows shot straight up past his slightly wind-ruffled hairline. She wanted to smile, delighted that she had managed to shock him, but this was important. Of all the disciplines they had studied, this had been overtly missing, and she was willing to do nearly anything to earn the right to know it. His brows came together in a frown, and she prepared for the rebuttal.

It came in the form she expected. "Tuvok would not approve."

"Tuvok isn't here." B'Elanna heard the beginnings of a purr in her throat, and evidently Vorik did as well, because his eyes widened slightly. So much for subtle, she thought.

He stood in one fluid motion, and reached for her hand, lifting her up. "Very well." And without any more warning, he attacked. She barely kept her footing in the shifting sand, and for a long minute, as a quick shower of brutal blows sent her reeling, didn't think she had made a very good bargain. But slowly, her determination and focus reasserted itself, and she began to fight him in earnest. And then she realized that he had been waiting for her to begin.

This combat was the longest they had ever engaged in. Vorik was defending the right of his people to keep private a technique that gave him a tactical advantage in nearly every conflict situation possible. B'Elanna wanted that advantage for herself; knew that she could master it if she was given a chance. She was strong enough if Vorik was. That he had never used it against her was telling—he must have been certain that she could have worked it out on her own. All of this flew through her mind and out as the searing heat of their dance took over ever available synapse, every flicker of reason, every breath in her body. All they became were shadows of each other, he reaching for where she had been a heartbeat before, she bowing gracefully beneath a surging blow and slicing outward to meet the whisper of heat where his body had vacated the space she had just entered. For a long moment, neither of them could even land a single touch on the other.

It felt… _lonely_.

And just as B'Elanna was forced to acknowledge such a feeling, Vorik's reaction time slowed, just slightly. Just enough. And her world shattered into red pain as her wrist connected with his hip, the hardest bone she could have possibly hit. Enraged, she screamed and threw herself against him, and he lost his balance, stumbling in the shifting sand, and fell flat on his back. Hot with bloodlust, panting and victorious, B'Elanna locked him down against the ground. He shifted and stretched against her, his eyes seeking the path of her hands against his forearms as she stared down at him, but he couldn't dislodge her. When she spoke, her voice came from far away, like the roaring of the surf. "Teach me." All she could feel was the tensing and untensing of his body, still fighting, unwilling to accede. Stubborn Vulcan pride.

But he would not answer. His eyes on hers, dark and defiant, suddenly lost focus. And B'Elanna Torres, in the midst of a red battle haze, realized her only tactical error a second too late. While she had effectively pinned down his body, she had left his head free, trusting that her bony head ridges would protect her from attack. Instead, he came up at an entirely different angle than what she was expecting, and kissed her hard on the mouth. Her breath caught in her throat as his body relaxed under hers, as her grip on his tense muscled melted into a flood of blood-tinged desire.

He flipped her effortlessly, landing her in the sand solidly half a meter away, and pinning her without hope for escape. It was his one incontrovertible advantage, and he knew how to use it. She closed her eyes, wanting to shut out the sight of him, the copper taste of him still on her lips. Her blood still pounded, but all the fight had left her. She sighed. "That was ungentlemanly, Vorik."

He was silent for so long that she finally had to open her eyes. To her surprise, he was staring at her with a complex mixture of shock and tenderness in his expression, something she had rarely seen even in a human. He shook his head at last.

"I have no explanation for my behavior, B'Elanna. You have won. I will teach you, if you will allow me."

He lifted himself off of her, and handed her up. She gave him an odd look. "You used a tactical advantage, Vorik. I fail to see how that makes me the winner."

"I took advantage of you, where I promised I would always give you a choice. I am at fault. Please, allow me to make amends, B'Elanna." He looked genuinely stricken.

She nodded. "Alright." Retreat in the direction of her original goal seemed strange, but she had no other place to go if she were to allow him to save face in his determined manner.

"Come to my quarters tomorrow evening. This is a private matter."

She eyed him with a little of her humor restored, as her breath came more easily. "If that's the case, come to mine. I have a higher security clearance."

He nodded, and then his gaze lingered on her mouth for a tiny, flickering instant before he turned and walked out the holodeck door.

It took a few moments before B'Elanna realized that she hadn't followed him.


	7. Irrevocable

**AN: **Yes, the Vulcans and candles reference makes another appearance here. I now decree that each chapter must have at least one::grins:: And it is because of wee-me that the second half of this chapter is written from Vorik's POV— an astonishing shift—I wish I had tried it sooner. ::bows to wee-me:: Okay, okay. Without further ado…

* * *

It was a curiously subdued Vorik that met B'Elanna in her quarters the next evening. They had foregone their morning workout and had skirted each other delicately in Engineering, only speaking in single syllables, and then only when syllables were actually required. When B'Elanna's watch-shift began, she was unaccountably relieved to get away, until she saw Tuvok on the bridge, and then had to deal with odd feelings of guilt at her clandestine Vulcan-compromising activities. So she had escaped with relief to her quarters, energy high and unrelieved, and Vorik's restrained presence only made her edgier. 

"Having second thoughts?" The question seemed perfectly legitimate, but he fixed her with a mildly insulted eyebrow, and instead of replying, undid the closure on his uniform jacket, and then tugged his grey undershirt over his head. B'Elanna briefly wished she had lit some candles, and then shook her head at the treacherous thought. His finely delineated muscles threw soft patterns across each other in rippling dunes of shadow. Gone was the smooth abdomen and uninteresting muscle structure of several months before. She had to close her mouth twice before she remembered to look up at his eyes. "Guess not." Her mouth was dry, and she tried to swallow unobtrusively. He watched her in steady silence.

"You are familiar with the carotid sinus?" His voice was as quiet as his presence, and her brow creased in concern, but she nodded. "You must apply pressure to the exact point of the carotid sinus, effectively shutting off all nerve communication to the brain." She nodded, focusing on the hollow of his collarbone, willing herself against distraction. But his body radiated heat, and was it even warmer in her quarters than she had realized?

His unnerving quiet stretched longer, until she could no longer ignore it, despite her newfound fascination with his body, which she had never seen uncovered for longer than a few carefully guarded moments. "Vorik, what's wrong?"

His dark eyes were expressionless. She recognized this mask. It was the one he used when he simply was not going to talk about it. He again did not answer her, instead taking her hand in his and lifting it up to his shoulder. His skin was feverish to her fingertips, but she told herself this was normal for Vulcans. Focus on the task at hand. He was taller, and exerting that sort of pressure at such an awkward angle would be very difficult. It would be simpler to come from behind him, so she did so. His head turned slightly to follow her, but otherwise he didn't move. B'Elanna closed her eyes, and slid her hands across his shoulders, allowing herself the luxury of this gentle, intimate contact, just for a moment. How often had she touched him, and yet what touch had been tender? She couldn't think of a single one. Under her hands, she felt him flex and tremble slightly, and a thrill ran through her, her blood stirring at the point of a remembered kiss. And then her fingers found the contact point, and she instinctively pressed down. He instantly fought back, flexing his shoulder muscle taut, until she could have been squeezing tritanium. But still she pressed, her biceps cording, shaking with the effort.

How long it might have gone on, she didn't know. Their endless battles had honed them both so hard that they might have stood until the next morning, shaking and cursing, locked in a silent struggle for control. But B'Elanna's blood was already up, and Vorik's trembling strain under her hands was too much for her to ignore. Something primal and searing came roaring up into her mind, blanking out her peripheral vision, honing her world down to scent and touch, and the blazing heat of his skin, and the blood throbbing underneath it; blood that she suddenly, desperately had to know. Longing pervaded her entire being. The ancient blood lust of her birthright took over, and she bit hard into his shoulder, his coppery blood bursting dusky and hot against her lips. A guttural cry escaped him, and even her hazed mind registered that it wasn't a cry of pain. His shoulder untensed for an instant. And then his knees buckled, and he crumpled senseless to the floor.

For a moment, her sluggish mind couldn't process what had happened, as the jewel-bright green life-blood of her desire trembled on her tongue. And then, slowly, it penetrated. She had done it. The nerve pinch had _worked_.

"Ghay'cha'! Damn it!" B'Elanna fell to her knees, her trembling hand over her mouth. Vorik lay in a twisted heap, his eyes closed, his exposed shoulder bleeding. She cursed again and jogged to the bathroom, grabbing a towel and a medkit, and sat down next to him, cleaning and dressing the small wound, her thoughts roiling. Timing had always been her finest talent, but this was a shuddering disaster by any standard. She wondered how long he would be unconscious, and distractedly brushed back his slightly untidy bangs from his sweat-damp forehead, her hand still shaking. Well, it was no good to leave him in a heap on the floor.

With a grunt, she lifted him to her shoulder in a graceless soldier's carry and hefted him over to her bed. He was a damn sight heavier than he looked, for certain. She fell against his senseless body and just lay there for a moment, listening to his thrumming heart, deep welling frustration and confusion blinding her by turns. Realizing he was still twisted up, she sat up and straightened him into a comfortable position, tucking a pillow under his head and covering him with a blanket, since his uniform jacket and shirt were still on the other side of the room. Then, deciding she had already crossed the major incident line tonight, she slid her body underneath the blanket and up against his. He could kick her out when he emerged into consciousness. Exhaustion took her before she could think too much more about anything but the flush of velvet heat under her hands as she stroked across the sensual curve of his abdomen with sleepily reckless abandon.

* * *

Vorik awoke to a wash of heat and sensation that he was wholly unprepared to deal with. B'Elanna lay sprawled against him, her jacket long abandoned and her bare arms and hands pressed against his skin in the most intimate possible manner. Her mouth was pursed against his throat, and he could feel the heat of her breath like a blossom against the thin skin under his jaw. He was paralyzed, unable to tear himself away from her, and unable to bear one more moment of such intense intimacy. His heart thudded in his chest. This he could not battle—lying in this bed next to her there was nowhere for his untamable, shameful, painful desire to go. Horrified, he felt the overflow of his emotion leak out of his eyes in tears, and he struggled with everything he had to draw himself back in and under control. Mantras that Tuvok had taught him flew through his mind like birds, rushed out with the trembling breaths of the woman in his arms. B'Elanna, whom he prized above all others, whom he would have walked away from had she simply asked, and who he kept coming back to because she had simply asked… he could no longer bear the strain. 

His hand trembled as he reached up to stroke her hair, as his need for control fought with his desire to know what she felt like in a moment of tenderness. He knew he was only betraying himself, that the memory would simply heap more pain on top of what already needed to be forgotten, but he couldn't stop himself. His fingers threaded through her dark hair, and it was a texture somewhere between silk and wool, both soft and strong; appropriate to her. He pulled her closer, heedless now of the damage he was doing to his shattered mantras, and kissed her forehead, breathing in the heady, familiar scent that he recognized in his dreams. A brush of her eyelashes against his cheek made him aware that she was awake, and he closed his eyes, wishing to delay what had to come.

But she had made her wishes irrevocably clear.

"Vorik…" she breathed.

He gently disengaged himself from her, and rose from the bed, not trusting himself to speak until he was no longer touching her. Reaching for his uniform gave him a thread of stability, and he took a deep, shuddering breath. "This relationship has caused us both too much pain, B'Elanna. It violates the very precepts of Surak that I honor. I have done you harm, and you…" He turned to face her, as the very hurt he spoke of flooded across her face. "Being near you has rendered me less than proficient." Cold words. He couldn't think clearly. She rose from the bed, too beautiful for reason, and his throat closed up.

"What are you saying, Vorik?" Her voice was low, dangerous. He swallowed, his trembling fingers reaching for his uniform jacket.

"You will not bond with me." It was a statement of fact. And she did not deny it now, but simply stared at him, confusion and incomprehension widening her dark, expressive eyes. He pulled on his jacket, nerveless fingers finding the fastenings by rote, and then he turned to face her one last time. It took all of his courage. "I love you, B'Elanna. I can bear this no longer." And without waiting for a reply, he turned gracefully on his heel and walked out of her life.


	8. Belonging

**AN: **Whew. This chapter was tough. Let me know?

Redhatboxes-- ::grins:: Good point! I took the liberty of thinking that he is very familiar with zero-g, but had never actually swum in an ocean. But you are probably right—as Starfleet he would almost have to have some experience in the water. Racking my brain to think of a situation to put him at a serious physical disadvantage, that was all I could come up with. Emotionally, Vulcans are wide open for all sorts of disadvantages, but physically, well, I wouldn't want to be on the opposing team. Thank you for the CC!

* * *

Morning dawned black, as it always did. B'Elanna was dreaming of the sun, and the warmth cresting over the hills of her home colony as the red light pierced her window. In the dream, she had been lying against her lover, and had not wanted to get up out of bed. But the harsh alarm that woke her revealed her bed empty, and the night before came crashing back. He told her that he loved her, and then he had left. Usually when men confessed that they loved her, they tended to stay. She buried her head under the pillow, but the day would not be shut out. Engineering was waiting. 

Vorik, however, was not waiting in Engineering. She found that he had already worked his shift—the Gamma shift, for which he had requested a permanent change. Gamma and Alpha shifts would only overlap if they happened to walk through the door at the same time, going opposite directions. She absorbed this in silence, oblivious to the flickering looks in her general direction.

By 08:00 hours, she was furious with him. How dare he arbitrarily change his shift? She was his commanding officer, and that was her decision, no matter what sort of personal feelings he might have. If she could deal with them, then the vaunted dispassionate _Vulcan_ could certainly deal with them.

At 09:13 hours, she was replaying over and over his last words. _I can bear this no longer._ Had she really tormented him so much? They had fought, and fought well together. She had taught him how to swim, and he had taught her the value of subtlety. Certainly, she might have touched him once or twice, but what was that to the thousands of punishing hours they had clocked hammering into each other? He had _bonded_ her, without her permission. Where was _that_ on the scale of intimacy?

By lunchtime, she was pacing, and no one would come within a meter of her. Her thoughts were deeply troubled, and she couldn't concentrate. It was all a matter of intimacy, she was certain. When he had bonded her, it had been by accident—he had been acting purely on instinct. But the last few weeks, they had been pushing each other's boundaries with full awareness of exactly how much ache it would cause. B'Elanna's hands tingled with remembered heat, and she wiped them on her uniform trousers. He had kissed her to win a battle, and she had curled up against him while he slept, which in retrospect was absolutely unforgivable… touch telepath that he was, and helpless in his unconsciousness, which _she_ had induced. She flushed in shame. Conduct unbecoming an officer. First, he had asked for her hand, and she had humiliated him in combat. Then he had asked for her help, and she had driven him to despair. Her heart thudded in her breast, loud and uncomfortable. In all this time and pain and war, they had formed a bond much deeper than anything that she had expected. Somehow, for the man who had become more than a sparring partner, more than a companion, so much more than a friend, she had to make amends.

* * *

The holodeck was running Tuvok 27A.235 when B'Elanna finally reached it, after her watch-shift ended and she took a shower and drank a cup of coffee to steady her nerves. Vorik hadn't been in his quarters, and this was the only other place she knew were to look. She requested entry, and the door opened on Vorik and Tuvok, both in loose pants and tied robes, moving slowly through an ancient dance. Her mission momentarily washed right out of her mind, she just stood and watched in fascinated silence. 

She was, of course, familiar with the ancient martial art, but had never seen it performed so slowly. At killing speed, it was breathtaking, but at this meditative, magical pace, she felt time slow down around her. Tuvok was using the Snake style against Vorik, who was using Tiger style. She felt the immense effort of holding the forms in Vorik's lower back and thighs, as he followed through with a forward thrust that Tuvok had already anticipated. The deep lake-like calm and steady balance of the older Vulcan was immediately apparent, and B'Elanna knew that Vorik was in trouble. She felt her heart clutch in her throat, but forced herself to stay absolutely still. She had done enough damage.

With a tap, the match was over. Vorik bowed to his master teacher and mentor, and Tuvok returned the bow with equal respect. Then the tactical officer turned to B'Elanna and eyed her with an uncompromising stare. She returned it, caught up in his eyes, so familiar and yet not. Tuvok nodded to her once.

"I do not like interfering in the personal matters of the crew. However, in this case, I have been asked by the captain to make a request of you both. Work this out, for the benefit of the ship and its crew, and for your own peace." He paused, his brow creasing slightly. "By any means necessary, Lieutenant. Ensign." He nodded also to Vorik, and then without a backward glance, walked out of the holodeck and left them alone.

Vorik gazed at the floor, his mask firmly in place. B'Elanna gathered up her courage, and stepped forward. "I was hoping that you could answer a few questions for me, Vorik."

He met her open gaze carefully, his eyes heavily shielded. The distance between them made her heart ache, but she focused on what she had to do. Any means necessary. Slowly he nodded, and motioned her to a mat on the floor.

They kneeled in one fluid motion, taking familiar places in a new and frightening place. She swallowed and took a deep breath. "Do Vulcans only have sex once every seven years?"

For a moment, she could only hear the stressed sound of his breathing as he struggled for composure. "Is… is that what you believe of me, B'Elanna?" His voice was notched considerably higher with the obvious strain her question had caused him. She felt a nervous laugh bubble up, and forced it down without mercy.

"That's how often the pon farr happens, isn't it? I guess I just assumed, since you don't have sex otherwise, that once every seven years would be all she wrote." She caught a tremor in her voice, but chose to ignore it. If he could be stressed, then by all that was holy, so could she.

He took in a shuddering breath. "Why do you think I have been fighting you?"

"Why do you always answer a question with a question?" she countered. But a growing realization began to fill her like the warm ocean water pouring in on her. He blinked, and broke the fragile thread of eye contact. "Oh. You mean that Vulcans and Klingons aren't so different when everything is stripped away, after all?"

His voice was subdued, but his words were full of passion. "I believed that I could control my desire for you with our battle: our wargames, as you called them, but the more we fought, the stronger my desire for you grew. It is beyond my comprehension." He reached for her hand and clutched it, hanging on to her like a lifeline. "I have asked Tuvok to take the memory of you."

Horror leached through B'Elanna like ice water. "He can do that? You would do that?"

Vorik looked at her, and the bleakness in his expression consumed her like an icy deluge. His dark eyes were pools of anguish. "I must. I am dying every day. Each time that I see you, I die. You invade my dreams, and I am helpless. I have betrayed everything that I know, that I am."

B'Elanna broke then, and wept. Tears poured down her cheeks in hot rivulets, and she bowed over his hands and buried her face against his thigh. Grief and frustration welled out of her as she breathed in deeply and tried to find her focus point. He waited quietly, his hands still clutching hers, now soaked by her tears. Finally, she stilled, and rose to face him. It was time.

"I have one more question for you." He nodded, looking almost calm. She nodded back, taking her courage where she could. "I came here tonight because I was going to offer to bond with you." His eyes widened in shock, but she forged on. "I have realized that the person who has been most wronged has been you, Vorik. I have by turns humiliated and punished you for something you had no control over, and you have borne up under it with remarkable dignity. And somewhere along the path, I at first realized a powerful desire for you, and then fell in love with you." His jaw actually dropped open slightly, but she wasn't stopping now. "But I wasn't honorable in this, either. I seduced you, and then slept in the same bed with you, and I have no idea how much damage that caused. And through all of this, I denied you the one thing you asked—a promise that I would be faithful." Her brow crinkled in pain as she continued. "I realized it today, when you didn't come to Alpha shift, and I fretted and worried and thought over what had happened… and I realized that I was scared that I was going to be committing to a cold relationship with an absent partner." She raised her eyes to his, and met astonishment there. He shook his head numbly.

"Whenever you want me, I will be there, B'Elanna. Just because the pon farr only happens ever seven years… it has been over now for months, and I can't… I…you can't imagine…" He stumbled to silence, unable to even complete the thought. She reached up and pressed a finger to his lips.

"One more question. Will you still have me?"

He simply stared at her for a very long moment. And then, from the depths of despair in his eyes, she watched hope breach like a cresting wave. "Yes." It was all he could manage to say. They spent a long moment in this new, fragile hope, breathing in the possibility of a new existence, one where trust took the place of war. And then Vorik stood, and helped her to stand, and her hands were trembling in his.

"How?" she asked. "I don't know what to do."

"Nor do I," he admitted. But before any flurry of nervousness could disrupt their newfound peace, he touched her lips gently, with an expression akin to wonder. "We will find our way, B'Elanna."

* * *

In the end, they decided to stay in the private holodeck, in the temple where they had first spoken to each other. Candles filled the low-ceilinged room with warm, glowing light, and a simple tatami mat on the floor cushioned them from the hard clay. Neither of them would have noticed if the floor had been covered with shards of dilithium. B'Elanna sat opposite Vorik in heady anticipation, and drew strength from the fact that he looked none too calm, either. His eyes sparkled in the dim, golden light, and a thin sheen of perspiration gleamed over the top of his lip. He swallowed uncertainly. 

"When I first bonded you, I did not know what I was doing." She thought she saw his olive skin flush a shade darker, but it might have been a trick of the light. "I needed to touch you, but did not understand. Now I know what my instincts were telling me to do. Please allow me to explain." He took a moment to gather his thoughts as she watched the delicate light flicker over his exotic, handsome features. Gone was the pale youthfulness, the planes of his face lean and strong now. She liked the change in him. His gentle voice washed over her thoughts. "The bond is more than just a psychic connection between lovers. It is… a bridge that enables us to share experiences, and emotion in a way that is impossible in everyday life. Vulcans, underneath our millennia of discipline, are a dangerous and violent people. Mating without the bond would be inviting me to murder any man that looked at you with even a hint of want in his eyes." He paused, clearly struggling with sharing something so deeply shaming, and B'Elanna forced herself not to react. But she knew in her heart that he was capable of murder—had known from the beginning that he would snap Tom like a twig if it meant clearing the way to her. Her mouth was dry with this awareness.

"But the bond gives you security?"

"No." His eyebrows came together in a thoughtful expression. "It is not security, or assurance that I seek from you, B'Elanna. The bond is necessary because it allows me to… feel. To feel the natural flow of passion, and love. It is not about possession, but about belonging."

She was confused. "Aren't possession and belonging the same?"

He shook his head, and reached out to stroke her cheek. "It is a matter of choice. When I bond with you, the depth of the connection between us will allow me to accept my emotions for you—my love, my passion, and even less noble emotions like jealousy. Instead of letting them take possession of my actions, they will be under my control, as your emotions are under your control. Do you understand?"

She tilted her cheek into his hand. "I'm not certain I completely understand yet, Vorik, but I accept that in time, I will."

"It is enough." And then he smiled, barely a crinkle of the corners of his eyes and a curling up of the corners of his mouth, but he looked completely charming, and her fears and hesitancy melted into the pooling warmth in her belly. She took his hands in hers and pressed them against her throat, as she remembered he had done a lifetime ago. Startled, he did flush this time, and she grinned back, heat rushing through her in waves now, overwhelming her senses. His eyes closed, his features framed in peaceful ecstasy, as the bond flowed through his hands and into her. Nothing she had felt before prepared her for this. Before, she had fought it… now she hung on to his forearms and let her body fall back into his keeping. Light flooded through her, and with it an extraordinary awareness of him… as if he were not just beside her but inside her, as if they shared the same womb and breathed in the same breath, beat the same blood through the same heart. And then, she did understand, and knew that words would never have been able to express this perfect symmetry of being.

When he kissed her, the feeling of completeness faded only slightly, to where she was able to separate her reactions from his. She had never wanted anyone more in her life, couldn't imagine wanting anyone as much as she wanted him. His mouth was a hot brand against her lips, her cheek, and she surged across the gap between them with single-minded passion, not able to hold anything back, and broke against him. They crashed to the ground, half off the mat, and B'Elanna though she heard the sound of tearing cloth, but something was in the way, in between her skin and his, and she tore at it, consumed by the sharp, satisfying snap of his teeth nipping at her neck. A snarl in her ear drove her to near-frenzy, and there was nothing but desire, and wave after wave, and he underneath and then throwing her over and above his strength more than a match for her own… this body she knew so intimately… he did not shatter. Worthy… blood and silk and all consuming fire. _He did not shatter._


	9. Subtle

**AN: **I am sorry that this story is done-- it has been a powerful experience for me as a writer. Some stories just take hold and don't let go, and this was one of those. As requested, the crew's reactions. Let's hear it for reviewer input! Yay! Thank you a thousand times to reviewers who took the time to make comments during the story-- those midstream reviews have incredible value to the process. The last chapter--onward.

* * *

"Computer, end program." 

Vorik eyed her hazily, his eyes bright but unfocused. "Is it time for shift to begin?" She smiled softly, and reached up to tuck his raven-black hair behind his tapered ear.

"No. Not for a while. I wanted to share something with you." She turned her head slightly from where she lay against his heavily muscled chest and spoke upwards to the now blank ceiling. "Computer, begin Torres Ocean B. Dusk. Depth begin at zero, angle outward at fifteen degrees. Flora and fauna." Vorik raised an eyebrow at her, and then gazed at their nakedness with gentle amusement.

"Remember to delete the jellyfish, B'Elanna."

She grinned and slid a hand across his ribs. "Computer, delete all jellyfish." The rushing sound of waves filled the room around them, and the floor beneath them became soft white sand instead of hard clay. Warm water licked at B'Elanna's feet, and a purr escaped her throat. "Vorik, it's my absolute pleasure to introduce you to the ancient Earth custom of skinny dipping."

She got both eyebrows this time, and a curious sparkle in the fading glow of a magnificent sunset. "Skinny dipping?" He pronounced the words with care, and she laughed, delighted at his dubious expression, and then rose in one fluid motion and took his wrist in both hands.

"Come on while the tide is still in!" He came up with her, no less graceful for a few minor cuts and bites and bruises, not that she was any better off. Without any ceremony, they plunged into the ocean water like charging bulls, the cool salt water stinging clean the cuts and filling them with exhilaration. Vorik had been working on holding his breath underwater, and although he didn't have the redundant lungs that B'Elanna did, he was near her match for time. Like everything else between them now, it was a game without winners, a contest for pleasure and challenge. And now he crashed into her and threw them both down under the surface, his mouth over hers, sharing a breath, twining in the deep cool darkness. Long before her lung capacity gave out, B'Elanna was breathless, and when they surfaced, all introductions to ancient Earth customs were momentarily forgotten. They found an island of washed sand almost by chance, and this time B'Elanna allowed her human side the luxury to thoroughly explore every sensual detail of her Vulcan lover that her Klingon passion had rushed through the first time.

Vorik felt the wash of the surf carve out the sand underneath him, and the delicate touch of the woman above him as she teased out sighs and moans from the very depths of his being—places within him that he didn't even know existed until now, on this foreign shore with her. If he had thought that his superior strength was the only advantage he needed to buffer against her passions, he was greatly at a loss. For a terrifying moment, tears gathered again at the corners of his eyes, even as his strong hands found the sloping curve of her hips for the second time in his life and guided them into the joining, a near- unbelievable sensation of physical resonance. But her lips came softly down against his cheek and kissed his tears away, and her low, husky voice murmured something wordless and soft, and he knew he was meant to recognize that this was love. He was not certain that he fully understood. But for now, this was enough.

* * *

Tom Paris ate, but the food was uninteresting. Across from him, Harry was telling him what was probably a really funny story about Tuvok and the pool table in the holodeck, but he wasn't really listening. Ensign Vorik was standing at attention in front of a seated Chakotay, looking very uncomfortable, and Tom Paris wanted to know why. Rumors had been rampant since, two days before, Vorik had worked the Gamma shift in Engineering and B'Elanna had scared the hell out of everyone the morning after during Alpha shift. _Both_ of them had missed shift the next morning, and Carey wouldn't answer any of his questions. B'Elanna had come in for her watch-shift on the Bridge, though, looking perfectly unconcerned, and the captain had pulled her into the ready room for a five minute conversation that Tom would have given his entire weeks replicator rations to be able to hear. 

But the two women had come out with closed faces, and nothing more was said on the matter. And when Tom had tried to question her about it, she had just lifted an eyebrow at him. Too much time with that damn Vulcan, was what it was. She just needed some time with a real man, so she could remember how to loosen up.

"Ensign, I see you put in a request for a permanent move to the Gamma shift?" Chakotay's voice didn't exactly carry, but Tom held a finger at Harry, motioning for quiet just for a moment. Harry shook his head, not wanting to encourage his best friend to take a turn at the rumor mill, but obligingly fell silent.

"Yes, sir." Vorik stood with the annoyingly perfect balance of someone who never had any fun, hands clasped behind his back. Tom saw that he was sporting a fresh injury of some kind or another just under his sleeve cuff. It was slightly rounded, and if he hadn't known better, he would almost have thought it was… huh.

Chakotay frowned. "I assume you have a good reason?"

Vorik nodded once. "I did,sir. The difficulty has now been resolved." His voice was curiously calm, not stilted and awkward as Tom remembered him. His eyes lingered on that damning vivid green bite mark on Vorik's wrist, and the blood began to heat up his cheeks. No. It wasn't possible. He was imagining things. B'Elanna and Vorik were sparring partners. Accidents happened.

Chakotay nodded. "Then I assume you no longer want to transfer?"

"Not unless you believe my abilities would be better utilized on Gamma shift, sir." But the exec shook his head.

"I think you and Lieutenant Torres make a good team, Ensign. I would prefer to keep you together, if that is alright with you."

"That is my choice, as well." Tom flushed at the hint of warmth on Vorik's voice. Chakotay just smiled, and nodded, dismissing him, and Vorik went to pick up a tray of food. Tom turned in his seat, seething. Harry just watched him, feeling helpless but knowing that anything he said would only make the situation worse. He knew that Tom had a thing for B'Elanna, especially after the nastiness with the pon farr, but if Vorik and B'Elanna had worked it out, he was happy for them. For Tom, there was an entire ship full of women. How many were there for a lonely, brilliant Vulcan?

With that thought, B'Elanna came through the door and caught Harry's eye, and smiled. Harry grinned back, but inwardly wondered how her timing could be worse. She sat down at the table and thumped Tom on the back. "Hey, navigator. Hi, Starfleet!" Tom looked up at her, and smiled lamely, and then looked down at his plate. Harry watched as she gazed up at Vorik, and he saw her eyes soften in a way that suddenly filled him with longing for his girlfriend Libby. He could remember when she looked at him like that, and he knew exactly what it meant. B'Elanna flicked her eyes at Tom and then tilted an eyebrow very slightly. Vorik chose another table. Harry was extremely impressed. B'Elanna was not known for her subtlety.

"So, Tom. You wanted to know what was going on. I'm here, now." Harry grinned. Check that. B'Elanna would not soon be widely known for her subtlety, either. Tom flushed again, and she raised both eyebrows at him. "You've asked Carey, you've asked the bridge crew… is there anyone you _haven't _asked?" She paused for a moment to let it sink in, and then she followed up with, "Oh, yeah. That would be me." Crushing. Harry decided to intercede.

"We're all curious. You missed your shift yesterday, and we were concerned. Is everything okay, B'Elanna?"

For a moment, her eyes narrowed, and he could tell that she was debating on whether or not she was going to answer him. But then Tom surprised them both, and spoke.

"I'm sorry, B'Elanna. I thought there was something between us." His blue eyes flashed with regret and displeasure. "It hurts to get rejected. But you've obviously made your choice, and since your friendship means a great deal more to me than getting killed in a dark hallway by an angry, jealous Vulcan, I'm going to be gallant and wish you both all the best." It all came out in a rush, but by the time he finished, his voice and expression had regained some of his trademark wry cheer. Harry's eyebrows had vanished into his hairline, and Tom could feel Vorik's eyes on him, even though Tom didn't dare look in his direction. B'Elanna blinked and nodded, and then stood.

"Thanks, Tom. I really do appreciate it. Although next time, you don't have to tell the entire mess hall, okay?" She shook her head at him, genuine affection warring with irritation in her expression. But true to herself, she could never be angry with him for long. He tossed her a smile, and she grinned back, and their war was over as quickly as it was begun. She walked over to the table Vorik was sitting at and sat down opposite him, and they launched into a quiet conversation about plasma vent spanners, or something equally stimulating to two high-level engineers. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, and turned back to his soup. Tom scowled at the table, and wondered if it was too late to ask the petite blonde from astrophysics to a holofilm after shift.

And in a quiet, unobtrusive corner, Captain Janeway and Lieutenant Tuvok met each other's eyes quietly. "Is this going to work, Tuvok?"

He was silent for a moment, his dark eyes fixed on the starfield moving past them at high warp. "I do not know, Captain. I have no experience with this sort of bond. Although I know of cases where an inter-species bond has been successful, Vorik has chosen a highly volatile companion."

Janeway tossed him a grin. "Also the most brilliant engineer we have to offer. To get even close, he would have had to bond with Lieutenant Carey." Tuvok didn't dignify this with a verbal response, but just raised a single eyebrow at her. Her grin broadened. "You have to admit that she has been good for him so far."

Tuvok frowned. "I have seen a great deal more evidence that he has improved her social skills than the opposite, Captain. On the whole, Vorik has been more emotional and less focused in the past four months than I have ever seen him."

"Must be love." Janeway's voice was low and soft, and Tuvok caught the change almost viscerally. He turned to face her more fully, examining her wistful expression carefully.

"Captain, what humans see as a positive change, Vulcans see only as a disruption in function. You laud what we seek to eliminate. I will never understand this compulsion for the destruction of peace in your lives."

Janeway leaned toward him, her light eyes intent. "Tuvok, if humans lived solely to reach a state of peace, we never would have left Earth. And don't tell me that Vulcans do it either. We could have chosen any number of planets to settle on by now, but we still forge ahead." She touched the cuff of his uniform gently. "I think you understand it better than you let on. You just aren't ready to admit it yet."

Tuvok blinked slowly, studying her eyes, and then he turned to watch the two lovers chat comfortably over soup and bread. What the captain said had a certain logic to it. There was much to consider. He simply nodded, and his captain smiled. For now, it was enough.

Across the room, B'Elanna laughed like a bell. Within Vorik's eyes was captured the reflection of her joy.

::fin::


End file.
